


Mr. Brightside

by zeld_aa



Category: Mystery Skulls, Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: I Am A Dummy, OC X CANON, Other, and arthur kingsmen, arthur kingsmen - Freeform, fixating on mystery skulls, god why am i like this, look ive just been, msa - Freeform, msa arthur, msa arthur kingsmen, mystery skulls animated - Freeform, reader x canon, since october of last year, who loves arthur kingsmen more than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 15:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18944164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeld_aa/pseuds/zeld_aa
Summary: jealousssy turning saints intooo the seaaa swimming through sick lulllabiees choking on your alibisssssss but that's just the prICE I PAAAYY DESTINY IS CALLINNGG MEEEE OPENN UP MY EAGERRRRRR EYEEEEES





	Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> cringe cultures dead babes  
> look man i just really like arthur kingsmen and angsty canon/readers are all i can write please don't bully me

To be honest, he didn't really know why he was upset. He should be used to it at this stage, it happens every time they go to one of these things.

Yet there he was, sitting outside in the middle of the mid-winter night, not giving a shit about the things he should really be trying to give a shit about.

Things like the fact that he couldn't feel his finger tips anymore, or that he had broken his promise to Vivi about no more smoking, or that some drunk frat guy who was definitely too young to even be here was out cold in the porch chair behind him, wearing nothing but weirdly damp jeans and Monster snapback.

Instead, he was sitting on the steps, think about the same stuff he always does at one of these parties: "Why did I even bother coming?"

And of course, the answer, every time without fail, was the same.

"Because of (Y/N), dumbass."

He rolled his eyes at his own predictability, and sighed before taking another puff of his cigarette.

His mind strayed from one thing to the other, and before he knew it, he found himself replaying the events that had driven him outside over and over again. It was the same reason as before.

Always has been, and probably always will be.

It's almost as if the only reason they even invite him to these things is to prevent them from going home with the wrong person, or to be their designated driver.

As soon as they arrive it's only a matter of time until some guy so much cooler than he is makes his way over and takes them away, saying some dumb, typical shit about how he could show them a better time than  
Arthur ever could.

At first, (Y/N) would spare him a glance, making sure he was okay with it before taking off, but lately that soft glance never seemed to come his way anymore.

Instead, they just take whatever new dude bro that comes over by the hand and disappear into the crowd.  
He wouldn't see them again until some ungodly hour, when the party's winding down and that guy is nowhere to be seen.  
Normally the guy just dumps them on the couch and takes off, leaving them there for God only knows how long.

In fairness, he has to give credit where it's due. At least none of them have taken off with (Y/N) yet.

He never really knew what they got up to as soon as they took off. He assumed it was just drinking until they we're black-out drunk, or dancing until they had to crash on the couch from exhaustion. Either way, he told himself that he didn't care.  
Every single time.

And yet every single time, that fell through immediately, and he would do nothing but care himself to the point of being physically sick for the remainder of the night.

Another thing Arthur lied to himself about was why he cared.

"They're your best friend. You're just nervous for them."

He'd scoff.

"Yeah. Right."

Watching the smoke drift away from his cigarette and into the starless sky, he decided maybe now was a good time to come to terms with it.

He was jealous. And lovesick.

Ugh.

Jealous of the way they'd grab this guy's hand unlike any way they've even skimmed over his before.  
Jealous of the way they'd look at him with a mixture of excitement and lust in their eyes. Completely different to the way he's ever seen them look at him.

Jealous that he wasn't the one he saw them kissing tonight.

When you mix the traditional colours of jealousy and love together, what you're left with is this, quite frankly, horrible looking, sickly brownish colour.

And that's exactly how he felt.

Jealous green.

Lovesick pink.

Sickly brown.

Often he found himself wondering if they knew. If they ever caught the sad look in his eyes as he watched them leave. Or if they picked up on the tone in his voice when he told them "you look great tonight!".

He knew they didn't. But a bit of wishful thinking never hurt anyone more than emotionally, right?

He threw the remainder of his cigarette onto the ground and using what small bit of jealous anger, stomped it out hard, promising that it'd be his last, knowing that promise was hollow.

Arthur leaned forward and clutched his knees.

Finally coming clean of the thing he'd been hiding from himself was unbelievably relieving, of course, but he couldn't help but feel worse.

Miserable is a better descriptor. It felt as if one weight was pulled off his chest only for a heavier one to be thrown down before he even got the chance to breathe.

He let out a sigh.  
A mental reset. Something to try and stop all the thoughts from ganging up on him.

However, his mind didn't reset.

Instead, it decided on playing tonight's events in fragments and on repeat:

Him getting bored.  
Getting up.  
Looking for (Y/N).  
Trying to call them.  
Getting ignored.  
Wandering to the couch.  
Finding them pressed against a wall, with their arms draped around tonight's stranger's neck.  
Kissing.  
From the top.

He bit the inside of his cheeks.

"It hurts... A lot."

"...I know."

For once his thoughts didn't argue with each other on this. When it came to (Y/N), they all seemed to work in agreement. Not fight with each other. They focused on (Y/N), and (Y/N) only.  
Out of all things on this Earth, they were one of the very few things that made him feel clarity.

Maybe that's why he was so clingy or protective of them.

What if he wasn't actually in love with them like he thought?

What if he was in love with the feeling they gave him?

The feeling of not drowning in his own thoughts?

Okay, time to shut up. He's scaring himself. Feelings are complex, yaddah yaddah, he didn't need to think about that right now.

Instead, he needed to think about whether or not he wanted to go back inside. On one hand, the coldness was starting to get to him, and being cold and pissed isn't fun.

On the other, he really did not want to see (Y/N) with that guy again.

He stayed outside.

///

Something near two hours passed.

The party was dying.

Arthur's head rested against one of the posts of the porch fence, another cigarette placed between his lips.

He watched as drunken party goers stumbled down the steps he was seated on, some sparing a glance as they passed him, no one said a word.

The drunk frat guy behind him had wandered off sometime earlier when he was moping.

Arthur was alone now.

He figured maybe he should start to head inside. He's had his "heartbroken emo boy" hours.

"C'mon, get over it."

"We're really fucking trying to."

Getting up, he once again flicked his cigarette to the ground below him, stomping it out like before, and dusted off his jeans, not that it did much to improve the look of them.

Staggering inside, he tried to shake both the feeling of pins and needles in his legs and the weird heartachey chest pain off. The pins and needles went, the heartache didn't.

Inside was quieter. No more strobe lights. A slightly less intense smell of weed, alcohol, and sweat. Soft rock playing quietly rather than whatever dance music was blasting earlier. He preferred this much more than what he had first arrived to. If parties were a bit more like this, maybe he'd go to some of his own accord.

Now, it wasn't hard to spot (Y/N) with the conditions like this. They were alone, slumped on the couch, staring at their phone, presumably bored out of their mind. Whatshisface had taken off.

He wondered if he should even bother going over to them now.  
Maybe they didn't want to see him? Maybe they're pissed off?  
He did kinda fuck off for the entire party and not mention anything.

Maybe he should just go out to the van, wait in the back for them. Text them twenty minutes afterwards and ask if they were ready.  
Bullshit something about how he didn't see them for much of the party.  
Go home.  
Try to forget tonight.  
Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Ultimately, he decided against that, because "that's a fucking stupid idea".

He fell onto the couch beside them, almost scared to look their way. They glanced up from their phone, then dropped it into their lap, springing forward.

"Arthur? Dude, where have you been, I haven't seen you all night! I was gonna text you."

He looked in their direction, moving nothing but his head.

"Ah, got kinda bored of the dancing and shit," He chuckled.  
"I decided to go outside for a breather, and I guess I just lost track of time."  
He forced a half smile, something he knew they were going to berate him on for not being genuine.

"Why didn't you come look for m-"

"Anyway, sorry. How was your night?"

Arthur cut them off there. He didn't have a lie yet to cover up the fact that he did try look for them, and that they were the reason he was outside.

"Oh."

(Y/N) frowned softly. He knew from experience that interrupting pissed them off. Oh well.

"..Honestly? Shit. That guy, Caleb, I was with, you remember? He turned out to be a total dickhead. 'Oh, just come back to mine for a bit, you look like you need a good'. Ugh. I'm not even going to finish that."

"Wow. Sorry, (Y/N)."

That came out a lot more disinterested than he wanted it to. Looking at (Y/N), he could see that they were clearly taken aback. Pissed even more too. The soft look in their eye hardened into a glare.

"Well done."

"Uh, I mean- Fuck that guy. Seriously. He's a douchebag."

His ''recovery'' didn't save him from another one of those glares only (Y/N) could give. The ones that are so sharp they hurt to even remember.

"Yeah. Fuck him." They mimicked.

A moment of silence ensued.  
Arthur's eyes left (Y/N)'s, and he stared into the dwindling crowd, trying in vai to calm his thumping heart.  
All the while their gaze never left him.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah..?"

"What's wrong?"

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably and also to face them.

"Nothing..? Why?"

He knew they weren't going to buy that. At all. And he was right.

"Bullshit. You can't lie for shit, Kingsmen. What's up?"

He sighed and shrugged.

"Just saw something I was kinda iffy with, I guess? Look, (Y/N), it's really no big deal. It's just... Me being me, alright?" He responded, tapping his temple with a metal index finger to try and clue them in.

"Whatcha see then?"

Fuck.

"(Y/N), don't do this shit, c'mon." He groaned. "I-"

"No! Arthur! You disappeared for four fucking hours, you didn't answer your phone for all that time, you smell of cigarettes again, and now you're telling me that it's no big deal, and not to do this shit? Jesus, Arthur, fuck me for being worried, huh?"

If ones tone of voice could kill, Arthur would have been long dead after 'hours'.

"(Y/N), I'm s-"

"You do this every time! Why do you even bother coming with me?"

He was trying hard not to let his emotions get the better of him, yet he felt his emotions slowly getting the better of him.

"You're one to talk, (Y/N)."

Again, that came out a lot stronger than intended. Did he feel bad? Yes. Was he going to apologise? No.  
Instead, this newfound anger decided to manifest itself in more words that he'd later regret.

"You invite me to these things for a 'good time' or whatever and then leave me the minute some random fucking stranger looks your way and gives you a wink. I'm not the one who fucks off, you are."

He thought about rising from his seat to finalize his comment and not have to deal with any more, but his legs refused to move. Instead, he sat there and glared at a stain of questionable substance on the ground, focusing on it, almost as if he was hoping that if he channelled enough energy, maybe he and it could swap places, because after that outburst, he'd rather be anywhere else than beside (Y/N).

He awaited an outburst in return, one he was beginning to feel would be justified, and began prepping himself with the same "don't cry, don't cry" mental pep talk he had to use on himself many times before, but instead he was met with a meek response.

"Oh."

He glanced in their direction, and found (Y/N) staring at the same stain he had been, their eyes scanning frantically around it. He could see them searching for the words they'd follow that up with. He could tell that they weren't going to be harsh.

"I- I'm so- So sorry-"

He could tell that, all at once, they were finally processing the shit they had put him through over the past six months. They weren't handling it all well.

"Look, (Y/N), forget it." He quickly blurted out, glaring down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a metal knuckle.

"I'm just glad I got it off my chest. I'm feeling better now. I'm sorry it was harsh though. You didn't deserve that."

A small, ever-present toxic part of him told him that they did, and that if anything, he should've been harsher. Let out everything.  
He shut that part up quickly.

Rising from his seat, ignoring the nausea it caused, he looked down at them and extended his arm, beckoning for their hand.

"You can crash at mine. Let's just go home."

(Y/N)'s gaze never left the stain. They rose by themself, and, with arms folded tightly against their stomach, they quickly rushed out the door.

A heavy breath pushed itself out through Arthur's lips. Letting his arm fall heavy to his side, he swiftly made his way out of there and back into the bitter night. Despite the amount if time he had spent out here earlier, the icy air still managed to sting at his skin.

Just a few meters away from him stood (Y/N)z outside of his van.  
Still clutching their sides.  
Still staring ahead with those glassy (E/C) eyes.

He unlocked the van, not saying anything as he passed them, and got into the driver's seat. They followed suit.

The ride home wasn't awkward, but the silence that sat between them wasn't entirely peaceful, or comfortable either.  
Every so often, he'd catch them looking over at him, their mouth agape for a moment, as if they were going to say something, only for it to shut as quickly as it opened when they caught sight of his eyes glancing in their direction.

It was an odd feeling, but briefly he wished they had been fighting. Anything would have been better than this bullshit.

Eventually the ten minute ride, which had felt like it lasted hours, came to a stop as they halted outside (Y/N)'s apartment. He looked at them, hands still firmly gripping the steering wheel. He was hoping they'd just hop out, go inside, and leave him to drive off to God knows where for one of his monthly meltdowns.

Arthur turned the engine off, leaving the pair sitting in an absolute silence.

"Well... Here you are." He muttered, looking anywhere and everywhere but their eyes.

"Yeah." Came their response, a quiet and stoic one at that.  
The lack of emotion hurt more than anything.

They reached for the handle and let themself out, slamming the door shut and walking inside.

That was it.

Nothing came after that.

No goodbye, no apology. Nothing.

Just the lingering ringing in his ears from the sound of the car door closing.

Arthur was alone again.

He sat in the car, staring out the window at the front door, almost as if he was expecting them to rush back outside, to jump into the car and apologise, to say that he was right and that they should never have left him alone, or maybe they'd both cry a little and make fun of each other for getting pissed over something stupid.

But he knew better than to wait there for that to happen.

Eventually he took a shakey breath and drove off. The moon was low in the sky. Sunset would come soon.

He brought a hand to his eye to rub away the sleepiness, but only ended rubbing away tears he didn't know he cried.


End file.
